


Turn From Blue to Black

by Megalomaniacal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Mutilation, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: One day they were planning their wedding, the next, Theon was alone and listening to Robb’s screams from another room, helpless to do anything.





	Turn From Blue to Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epicfrenchfry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicfrenchfry/gifts).



> For epicfrenchfry bc she wouldn’t let me cut off any body parts in our fic

Robb. Robb, Robb, Robb. Theon was constantly crying, trembling and clawing at his own skin as he listened to the sounds coming from the room adjacent to his. It had been like this for so long, going days at a time with no food or water, no light or blankets or warmth, no human contact- all he had was the metal cuffs around his ankles and wrists and the sound of Robb’s pain from the room next to him. He felt so helpless, so useless, worthless. It had become a habit to lift a hand to his mouth, gnaw at his fingers, nails already short and jagged and skin already pulled and torn. His other hand off rested on his naked thigh and clawed, scratching and tearing and picking at the skin. 

At first, he’d pounded his fists against the floor, clanged the chains securing him to the floor, screamed and yelled and begged, but Ramsay didn’t come for him. He stayed with Robb, hurting him in ways that Theon couldn’t see. 

The stub where his left ring finger used to be itched, and he swore he could feel the band of his engagement ring still there. A part of him thought, numbly, that even if both of them got out of here alive, Robb would never be able to put a ring on his finger. Not that he would anyway. Theon could only imagine that Robb hated him. He’d called Theon’s name, screamed it, and Theon hadn’t come. 

His knuckles were all torn up and bloody and whenever he bored of biting his fingers, his mouth moved to bite at the scabs, leaving his fingertips bleeding from the exposed nail bed. His stomach would growl at the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, a reminder of how hungry he was, how thirsty he was. 

Robb was stronger than him, he’d always been. Theon had already been unstable when Ramsay got his hands on him the first time. He was burdened with the memories of a shitty childhood, with years of pent up self loathing and doubt. Theon had been so desperate for love and attention. Robb had his traumas, too, his dead father, his helping Theon to recover, but Theon knew he was stronger. Theon prayed that Robb wouldn’t break. 

Theon didn’t understand why Ramsay had to take Robb. Had he grown bored of Theon? Had he missed hearing his beloved pet scream and beg and fight? Ramsay hurt him out of love, but he hurt Robb out of pure, unadulterated hatred. He never heard any ‘good boy’s or ‘I love you’s spoken to Robb. He couldn’t imagine Ramsay holding Robb, stroking his hair as he cried, not like he did for Theon. He couldn’t imagine Ramsay gently washing Robb as he dozed off in the tub. All of the small kindnesses Ramsay had afforded Theon weren’t given to Robb, he was sure of it. 

When Ramsay did visit him, it was rarely ever to hurt him. He’s rape him while whispering soft, loving words into his ear. He’d hold him and kiss him and stroke his hair as Theon stared blankly ahead. 

He didn’t let Theon see Robb for months, not until he didn’t even look like Robb anymore. His hair had turned from a beautiful auburn to a dull, almost grey brown, those beautiful blue eyes that used to shine so bright now dim and dead, practically unseeing. His body, once so perfectly muscles and smooth, was severely malnourished and missing so, so much skin. Ramsay had flayed Theon’s name on Robb’s chest, and Theon vomited when he saw it. Robb didn’t even seem to see him, didn’t seem to hear a single word that was spoken. 

Ramsay had forced Robb’s mouth open to show Theon the missing teeth, the grossly infected sockets where they’d once been, the stub at the back of his mouth that used to be a tongue. He was all too happy to show Theon how he’d removed each and every finger from Robb’s hands, and to describe the process that created each blackened stump in explicit detail. He showed him Robb’s groin, a grossly infected wound now where his thick, gorgeous cock once was. 

“Even if you escaped now, he won’t live,” Ramsay had hissed into his ear, dark and cold. “The necrosis has already set in in too many places.” 

He’d forced Robb’s legs apart with minimal effort and Theon vomited again at the sight of a thick metal rod shoved in his ass. 

“He really screamed when I did this. He stopped screaming a while ago, I’m sure you noticed, so I had to get creative. You should’ve seen his face when I fucked him with my knife.” Ramsay had cackled at the look on Theon’s face. “I had to cauterize the wounds, of course, hence the metal poker... he passed out, I had to keep throwing water over his head to make sure he really felt it.”

Robb was missing almost all the skin on his calves and Ramsay had removed almost all his toes. Theon was unsure how Robb hadn’t died from blood loss. 

Ramsay let him stay in that room for a while, locked in so he could watch Robb slowly rot away and die. Robb never spoke, barely moved, breathing always labored. He’d tried to talk to Robb, to sing to him, to do anything to get Robb to see him. But Robb just stared straight up at the ceiling, lying flat on the blood stained table until his heart finally stopped beating. 

Theon had never wanted to die more than he did that day. He had no idea what Robb’s last words were, before Ramsay had rid him of his teeth and tongue. He cried, his own frail, aching body clinging desperately to Robb’s. Ramsay had torn him off and let his dogs eat the corpse while Theon watched. 

Theon felt dead. 

Ramsay proposed to him, putting the same ring he’d cut off onto Theon’s right ring finger. He had no left one to put it on, but Ramsay didn’t mind. Theon mindlessly did what Ramsay wanted, staring blankly at him when they stood at the alter, when Ramsay kissed him and hissed a final declaration of ownership into Theon’s ear. 

“You’re mine. In my eyes and the eyes of the law.” 

Theon just nodded. 

Ramsay hated his toy’s new attitude, his silence, the lack of life in his eyes, the way he just limply did whatever he was told and stared blankly at a wall the rest of the time. At one point Ramsay had threatened to take one of the other Starks, and Theon had just stared at him. There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on his face, not a trace of a reaction. Ramsay had been furious, had grabbed him and thrown his body against the wall, beat him unconscious. He’d broken a few bones, but Theon still didn’t say a word when he woke back up. Ramsay didn’t treat them, and they healed unevenly. 

Theon had lost his concept of time a long while ago. He never left the house, rarely left his room. Ramsay came home with girls, would torture and rape them in front of Theon, and Theon just stared blankly at Ramsay as it happened. He came home one day with a new dog and a new name, and Theon hadn’t even batted an eyelash. 

The first time he saw a calendar since Ramsay first saw him and Robb, he saw it had been five years. He broke at that, trembling and finally crying, thinking of how happy he’d been, how happy Robb had been, their shared kisses and matching rings and wedding plans. 

That night, when Ramsay slept, Theon climbed on top of him with a knife clutched tightly in his hand. Ramsay’s eyes flew open when the blade drove into his chest, then pulled out and stabbed back down between his ribs. 

He watched the life leave those icy blue eyes and he cried. He cried, because now he had nothing. Blood soaked into the sheets and covered Theon’s hands. He didn’t care. He’d have happily drowned in it, if it meant he could finally leave that place, if it meant he could finally be with Robb. 

He’d stayed with Ramsay’s corpse for a time, hours or days, he wasn’t sure. At some point he’d gotten up and gone downstairs, entering the dark, cold basement. He went into the room where Robb had lived the end of his life. He laid down on the table, spattered with dry blood and filth. He closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep there, in the same spot where Robb had closed his eyes for the final time. 

And, just like Robb, Theon never woke up.


End file.
